


Grasping at Straws

by YoYossarian



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9167995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoYossarian/pseuds/YoYossarian
Summary: It's been months since Emily returned from the dead and the BAU team is finally settling back into a routine. She'd known that the team would be upset, that she couldn't necessarily pick up right where she'd left off, but she hadn't anticipated Reid.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I obviously do not own Criminal Minds or any of these characters; I'm just taking them out for a spin.

Emily had always viewed herself as a protector of victims, friends, and, of course, gangly younger co-workers. That, she told herself, was the reason she was standing in front of Reid's apartment door at ten thirty on a work night. When she'd died, since her return, their relationship had shifted and soured and she was desperate to pull all back together again.

\-----

It had been a tough case, physically and emotionally draining for everyone on the team. They'd apprehended the unsub minutes too late to save the fourth victim, a dark haired woman in her early forties who made it into surgery, but bled out on the table.

Evelyn Price hadn't left behind children, a spouse, or siblings, but one by one her closest friends, as good as family, had appeared in the waiting room. They paced, sipped lukewarm coffee, and glanced up every time a nurse or doctor passed.

Most of the team headed back to the station to debrief the local cops and break down the evidence boards; they would fly home in the morning. At one fourteen am under florescent lights in the claustrophobic waiting room, Emily stood quietly by as JJ broke the news of Evelyn's death and she watched a group of good, kind people fall apart.

\-----

JJ broke the silence on the drive back to the hotel.

"Every time I deliver that news it brings me back to the night you died," she said, her eyes not leaving the road. "The looks on their faces, seeing those words destroy them, it's something I'll never be able to forget."

Emily looked across to JJ, took in the other woman's tight grip on the steering wheel, and waited.

"I'd do it all again if it meant keeping you safe, keeping our team safe, but I don't think they'll ever fully forgive me."

"I owe you my life, JJ," Emily said slowly. It had been months since her return, but she still felt it, too, the hesitancy, rough edges where the team had once been a well oiled machine. "And I would die a hundred times if it meant keeping the team safe, even if I knew they would hate me forever. I'm so sorry that you got caught up in all this."

JJ glanced away from the road and over at Emily. Her blue eyes red with fatigue.

"Do you think it'll ever go back to normal?"

Emily pondered the question and JJ turned her eyes back to the road.

"I'm honestly not sure," she answered as JJ pulled into the hotel parking lot. "Maybe they just need more time."

\-----

The entire team had been affected by the lie JJ and Hotch had concocted to keep them safe, but Emily knew that both she and JJ were most worried about Reid.

At first Garcia had been mad, but the more she dwelt on it, the more it gave way to empathy and a deep sadness for Emily's predicament. She was so relieved to learn the truth, that she'd shoved her way through those emotions and wholeheartedly embraced her friend's return.

Rossi was disgruntled that he'd been officially left out of the loop, but Emily had a feeling that he'd suspected all along that something was off. He was happy to have her back home and took her out to lunch every week or so to ask how she was adjusting.

Morgan was still angry, but his anger was more deeply rooted in feelings of betrayal and frustration that people he considered family had broken his trust. Though it wasn't easy, Emily had been mending her relationship with Morgan. She knew that she'd never convince him the lie had been necessary, but she was patient and didn't demand his understanding or forgiveness.

Reid, however, well Reid was tricky. Reid, despite everything life had thrown at him, was quick to trust and loyal to a fault, but it was the deliberate abandonment that did him in. Emily had disappeared from his life without a word, without even a goodbye, and while he was, of course, glad to see her alive, he'd kept her at an arm's length ever since.

Upon learning the truth, Reid had expressed his anger and frustration with Hotch and JJ. For weeks Emily braced for him to finally turn those verbal jabs on her, but it never came. Then, one Tuesday when she'd been back for six weeks and the team had finally begun settling back into a rhythm, it hit her. Her relationship with Reid had inherently changed and he didn't seem to have any interest in letting it drift back to normal.

He began bringing his lunch to work every day, tactfully avoiding ever joining her at the deli down the street. A local theatre hosted a Doctor Who marathon, but her text inviting him to join her went unanswered.

Sure, they could walk a crime scene together, analyze evidence elbow to elbow in a windowless conference room, but gone were the days when he would regale her with facts and figures unrelated to the case.

He was a solid co-worker, a consummate professional, but as the weeks wore on Emily found herself desperate for a lecture on Roman versus Greek gods or the various methods of verifying the authenticity of Renaissance artwork.

In her desperation, she began trying to coax it out of him, asking leading questions that before Doyle would have easily earned her a twenty-minute history lesson. Each time he averted his eyes and didn't take the bait.

\-----

Emily barely managed to pull on her pajamas before collapsing into the hotel bed; she didn't even remember falling asleep. Five hours later at the insistence of her alarm, Emily dragged herself out of bed and into the shower before meeting the rest of the BAU team in the lobby. At least, she thought in passing, she wasn't the only one who looked like hell.

The ride to the airstrip was quiet; as usual Reid had waited until she stepped into one SUV before climbing into the backseat of the second.

The four-hour flight back to DC was just as quiet. Hotch and Rossi sat side by side in silent companionship. JJ sat next to Emily with a book in her lap and Morgan listened to music with his eyes closed across the aisle. Reid stretched across the seats in the rear of the jet and promptly fell back asleep.

"I don't expect anyone in until tomorrow morning," Hotch announced when they landed. There were murmurs of gratitude; it had been a grueling four days and everyone was drained.

Before, she would have offered Reid a ride home, but she was too tired to deal with his blank stare and quiet rejection, so she said nothing. Morgan, always protective of Reid, motioned for the young profiler to climb into his car. Before sliding into the driver's seat, Morgan caught Emily's eye, frowned slightly and nodded. Her efforts and Reid's response, she realized, were not going unnoticed.

Emily unlocked the door to her apartment and nearly stumbled over Sergio as he tried to escape out the front door.

"Not today, buddy," she mumbled scooping the black cat into her arms. "Momma's too tired to chase you down the hall."

Sergio seemed to understand because instead of resisting he gently headbutted her in the chin and began purring.

Emily kicked off her shoes and padded down the hallway, past the kitchen, and into her bedroom. Her stomach rumbled, but she was too drained to eat. Instead she climbed into bed, fully dressed and still cradling the cat.

\-----

Four godforsaken hours later, Emily lay awake in her bed staring up at the ceiling. Sleep, though she craved it, had never come. Sergio had long since wiggled out of her arms and disappeared. Apparently he didn't have patience for all of her tossing and turning.

Lying in bed, eyes squeezed shut, she'd been unable to banish Reid from her thoughts. Time and time again she found herself picturing his reaction to her death, the look on his face, his body language. Her stomach twisted at the thought of shedding tears for her, at the thought of him fighting and then slowly accepting the news.

She didn't, of course, have any way of actually knowing how he'd reacted, how any of them had reacted. No one ever talked about that night and she would never ask. All she had to go on was a vague idea of how she would respond to news of his death, Reid being rushed to the hospital, Reid bleeding out on the operating table.

The longer she laid in bed, the worse the feeling in her gut, the tighter she clamped her teeth together, until at last she accepted that sleep would not come and climbed out of bed.

She fed Sergio, nibbled on a granola bar, showered again, but still she couldn't force herself to relax.

"There's no way around this, is there?" She asked Sergio. He was perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, his green eyes judgmental.

"You're right," she conceded. "This is a last ditch effort."

The cat watched as Emily pulled on her jacket, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door.

That was how Emily found herself standing in front of Reid's apartment door at ten thirty on a work night when she knew with ninety-seven percent certainty that he would turn her away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I obviously do not own Criminal Minds or any of these characters; I'm just taking them out for a spin.

Reid opened the door wearing red flannel pajama pants and a white undershirt; his feet were bare and his unruly hair still damp from the shower. He didn't look happy to see her, but Emily took comfort in the fact that he'd answered at all.

"Hey Reid," she began, holding up the white plastic grocery bag. "I come bearing gifts."

"How'd you get into the building?" He asked quietly. It's wasn't exactly the response that Emily had been hoping for, but at least the door was still open. She grimaced.

"Mrs. Truman across the hall buzzed me in. I knew she'd be up watching the news."

His brows furrowed at the thought of his elderly neighbor wielding so much control over the building's security, but finally he stepped back and let Emily in. The longer they stood at the door, the more likely Mrs. Truman would be to pop out into the hallway and comment on how it'd been too long since Emily had paid the young doctor a visit.

Reid's apartment hadn't changed in the months since Emily had last seen it. The space was comfortable and tidy notwithstanding small piles of books stacked on most available surfaces. He'd been intending to buy another bookshelf for ages, but never seemed to get around to it.

Emily set the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and pulled out a bag of Sour Patch Kids and a half pound of what she knew were his favorite coffee beans. She watched as Reid scanned the offering and then looked back to her.

"And yes," she joked, her voice strained. "This is a bribe."

He didn't laugh.

"Why are you here, Emily?"

"I need to talk to you and you've been avoiding me, so this is me backing you into a corner."

"Well congratulations, you've managed to ambush me in my own home."

"Ambush is a little dram..." She trailed off when he raised an eyebrow, challenging her assertion.

Emily felt her frustration mounting and wisely clamped her jaw shut. If he'd just been willing to talk, to work with her to rebuild their friendship, it wouldn't have had to happen like this. He was being stubborn, childish.

Reid's hazel eyes, locked on hers, were cold and flat. She felt him recognize her tell, realize that she was beating back anger. He waited, allowing her to gather her thoughts and tuck away her frustration; despite their differences, neither of them wanted the confrontation to devolve into a shouting match. The moment passed.

"Do you have any scotch?"

Reid averted his eyes and took a small step back.

"I'm not keeping any alcohol here right now."

Emily's stomach dropped. Reid typically kept a decent bottle of scotch tucked away in a cabinet and only purged alcohol from his home when he was struggling with other cravings. He was hyper aware of how even one ill-timed drink could lower his inhibitions and start him down a dangerous path, so when he craved, he craved stone cold sober.

Emily felt like a fool. For months she'd done almost nothing but lay low, play online Scrabble, and think about her team, but never during that time had it crossed her mind that Reid may have relapsed. She controlled it in an instant, but not quickly enough; he'd seen the panic, the question flash across her face. He breathed in sharply.

"Jesus, Emily. No, I didn't... I'm not..."

Relief flooded through her, doing little to unclench the knot in her stomach, but helping nonetheless. She wanted to reach for his hand, but knew that the physical contact wouldn't be welcomed.

After an awkward moment, Reid turned and walked into the living room where he collapsed heavily into the old leather armchair across from the couch. By choosing the armchair he'd avoided having to sit next to her. She followed him into the living room and sat gently on the couch.

"Okay, I'm here. I'm listening. Just say what you came to say."

His eyes were resigned and his arms were folded protectively across his chest.

This was it, the moment that Emily had been working towards, fighting for, since she'd realized that their friendship hadn't survived her death. She'd practiced for this moment, had similar moments with the rest of the team, but now that she had Reid's attention, nothing felt right. But there he was and here she was and she had to start somewhere.

"Spence, you of all people should know that I made my decision because I love-" Emily began, but Reid cut her off immediately, his passive eyes suddenly flashing with anger.

"Don't give me that bullshit," he spat, shoving himself right back out of the chair. "Me of all people? Oh no, you don't get to use that line just because we happened to be fucking at the time. We were always friends first. I trusted you and you threw that trust right back in my face."

He began to pace frantically across the living room, keeping the coffee table between them. Reid never swore and the words stung her ears. She didn't reply, didn't have a response prepared, and he finally stopped short, spun to face her.

"If you could go back, would you do it again?"

He watched her carefully, monitoring her micro expressions, waiting for the lie.

"That's really all I need to know."

"Spence…" she started, standing up from the couch, but he'd heard enough.

"You need to leave."

Tears filled Emily's eyes, threatened to spill down her cheeks, and she swiped angrily at them. His question set her up to fail and they both knew it. He turned his back and padded down the hall towards his bedroom.

"'I'd do it a thousand times if it meant keeping you safe," she called quietly after him.

He didn't give any indication of having heard her and shut his bedroom door firmly behind him, leaving Emily to see herself out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I obviously do not own Criminal Minds or any of these characters; I'm just taking them out for a spin.

Reid already had his nose buried in a pile of paperwork when Emily got in the next morning. He glanced up when set down her purse and nodded a polite good morning. She nodded back and instead of settling in, immediately headed over to pour herself a cup of coffee. He turned back to his case report, business as usual.

The team had always teased Emily for the way she rigidly compartmentalized her emotions, but Reid was also a champion of the craft. It was the reason they could function efficiently as co-workers despite the chasm between them, despite their shared history. It was just harder to tell with him because he portrayed himself as so much more open and naive, but Emily knew. To be fair, she'd missed at first, too.

It's wasn't that Reid misrepresented himself to the team. He was just a lot more complex, a lot more aware than he liked to let on. He knew that he filled a specific role, met a specific need, and so he lived his life with them as the awkward, brainy kid brother. And while that persona wasn't entirely inaccurate, he was so much more than that.

She must've been stirring her coffee for too long because Morgan appeared out of nowhere, leaned back against the counter, and fixed her with a curious gaze.

"Earth to Prentiss," he joked, waving a hand in front of her face. "You were spacing out. Got something on your mind?"

"I'm fine, didn't sleep well last night," Emily deflected, raising her mug. "Hence the coffee."

Morgan nodded.

"Tough case," he acknowledged, though she could see that he didn't entirely buy her excuse. "Lemme buy you lunch today; we'll talk it out."

"Ah I don't know, Morgan," she began. "I've got a lot of paperwork to catch up on and..."

"It's Friday, Emily. The paperwork will still be on your desk on Monday. I'm only asking for an hour."

She glanced down, glanced back up, knew that after everything she couldn't deny him a quick lunch. Even though her relationship with Morgan was back on track, there were still fences to be mended.

"Well, if you're buying, I guess I'm in."

\-----

Emily hadn't been kidding; she had a mountain of mind numbing paperwork to get through, but at twelve thirty Morgan pulled her away from her desk and ushered her out the door. As they walked down the street, Emily peppered him with questions about the woman he'd recently started seeing. Though she'd already gotten the scoop from Garcia, she was determined to steer the conversation away from herself and so she kept him talking. Morgan, as it turned out, had other ideas.

"Enough about me," he said once they'd snagged a booth and ordered. " I think that you and I need to talk about Reid."

"What about him?" She asked, suddenly remembering how tired she felt. Though she'd instinctively cased the restaurant when they walked in, she glanced around again to confirm that Reid wasn't within earshot.

"Emmilly," Morgan softly drew out her name, bringing her attention back to him. "You're running yourself ragged trying to make up for lost time and to some extent it's worked. We're not there yet, but things have finally started to feel normal again."

Emily smiled weakly.

"Saying sorry was never going to be enough. I've been trying to make it up to you."

"And I appreciate that, I really do." Derek reached out and gently pried the napkin she was shredding out of her hands. "But I didn't come here to talk about us. I need to know what's going on with you and Reid."

He tried to catch her eye, but she looked away, unsure of what to do with her hands now that he'd taken the napkin. She was normally such a good liar, but she was frustrated and she was exhausted and deep down maybe she did want to talk about it.

She met his gaze and let him read the pain in her eyes before glancing down at the table again.

"I underestimated him."

Morgan furrowed his brow, but waited for her to continue.

"I was so obsessed with finding Doyle, with getting revenge, that I didn't understand how much I was throwing away. I knew that my friends were hurting, knew that it would be hard to come back, but I didn't realize that he would shut me out so...completely."

The waitress set their meals in front of them, but neither of them looked up.

"Emily, Reid will come around. The rest of us have. He just needs time." Morgan reached across the table to take her hand, but she snatched it back and shook her head.

"I thought that too at first, but I know him...knew him... better than anyone. Reid has suffered so much and I thought I was protecting him, but all I did was make it worse. I should have seen it coming. Maybe I chose not to see it coming. Christ, Morgan, we were sleeping together for over a year and now he won't even accept a ride home."

Morgan leaned back and let out a long breath. Emily saw surprise and a hundred questions flash across his face before his expression finally settled on relieved. He ran a hand over his shaved head, leaned back towards her, and lowered his voice.

"He's been so moody lately. And twitchier than normal. I thought...I was worried that he was using again. Shit, Emily, every time he rolled up his sleeves I was checking for track marks."

"He's not using, but he's been craving. I don't know for how long. Maybe since I came back. Maybe since I left. He was doing so well before that."

Derek nodded, raised his eyebrows, and picked up his burger, appetite somewhat restored.

"I've gotta tell you, Prentiss. I did not see that one coming, but I'll take heartbroken Reid over strung out Reid any day "

There was no judgment in his voice, no swell of anger as he realized that Reid must have felt her loss even more deeply than the rest of them. Emily chalked it up to his initial rush of relief that they weren't going to have to wrestle Reid out of the grips of addition again.

"I wouldn't call him heartbroken," she said, nibbling on one of her fries. "We were never actually in a relationship. Just two friends having lots of sex."

"For over a year? That sounds like a relationship to me." Derek commented. "How the hell did you two manage to keep it a secret?"

Color tinged Emily's cheeks.

"It wasn't easy."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I obviously do not own Criminal Minds or any of these characters; I'm just taking them out for a spin.

It started after the pig farm, after Hotch was stabbed and Reid was shot and Emily couldn't shake the feeling that everything was spiraling out of control. She'd replayed the day in her mind a thousand time, analyzing every moment, every decision she could have made differently. She barely ate, couldn't sleep.

\-----

Reid was released from the hospital after three days with a surgically reconstructed knee and a prescription for Oxycodone that he had no intention of filling. The doctor had strongly recommended that he take at least two weeks off of work while the post-surgery swelling went down and he began physical therapy. Reid had nodded along, but then told the team that he'd be back, albeit on crutches, the following Monday.

Morgan drove him home, helped him navigate the stairs up to his apartment, and offered to stay, but Reid declined the offer. Emily knew this because Morgan had called her from his car on his way home and asked her to check in on Reid over the next day or two. Yeah, yeah, he knew that Reid was an adult, but the kid's fridge was empty, save two cartons of leftover Thai and a half gallon of expired milk, and he wasn't going to get far on crutches. How was he supposed to recover if he couldn't even feed himself?

Though she'd kept her tone even, Emily was worried. She wasn't surprised that Reid had declined Morgan's company. After three days in the hospital, being poked and prodded by nurses and doctors, he was probably desperate for time alone in his own home surrounded by his books. That knowledge that he was likely relishing the peace and quiet was the only thing that kept her from heading over to his place immediately. Instead, Emily forced herself to go to the gym, shower, redress, and head to the grocery store before calling Reid to ask if he was up for company.

She phrased it like a question, but they both knew that she'd already made up her mind; the phone call was more of a courtesy heads up that she was already on her way.

She let herself into his apartment with the spare key she'd acquired at some point in their friendship when it made more sense for her to have it than to wait outside for him to buzz her in. Reid never seemed to sleep more than a few hours a night, so when Emily suffered bouts of insomnia, she'd begun showing up at his apartment ; on those nights, they ate too much popcorn (extra butter) and took turns picking movies.

"I come bearing groceries," she announced, setting two heavy bags down on his kitchen counter, and kicking off her shoes. "How's the knee, handsome?"

Reid was lying on the couch, leg propped up on a small stack of pillows with an ice pack balanced precariously on his knee. He was dressed in a CalTech t-shirt and loose fitting gray sweatpants, the change of clothes she'd brought him in the hospital when she realized that none of his slim cut corduroys would accommodate a heavily bandaged knee. She'd been surprised to learn that he even owned sweatpants; it just didn't seem very Reid-like.

"Contrary to popular belief, I am capable of feeding myself," Reid replied as Emily unloaded the bags and dumped the spoiled milk down the sink. "But thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Now stop dodging my question about your knee."

"The surgery was successful," he replied.

"Reid, I know that the surgery was successful. And you know that's not what I meant," she chided him, folding the paper grocery bags and tucking them under the sink.

"I'm fine." He tried to smile up at her when she walked over to join him in the living room, but it came out as a grimace.

"Reid..." she warned.

"Doctor Schuler wrote me a prescription for Oxycodone," he offered.

Emily started at him skeptically and, after a moment, he broke.

"I've been taking Ibuprofen."He admitted, gesturing to a pill bottle on the coffee table. "Which isn't helping as much as I hoped it would. Mostly I'm just trying to keep my mind off of it."

"Yeah, and how's that working for you?"

"Not as well as I'd hoped."

Standing over him in that moment, desperately wishing that she could help shoulder the burden of his recovery, a terrible, awful, no-good-can -possibly-come-of-this idea occurred to Emily. At its core, she reasoned, her solution was a win-win. She could, however temporarily, help take Reid's mind off of the pain and simultaneously fulfill her own deep seated need to help put her friend back together again.

"Reid," she began, words forming on her lips before she could second guess herself. "Are you seeing anyone?"

His eyebrows knit together in confusion and propped himself up on his elbows.

"You know I'm not."

Emily sat gently next to him on the couch and let her eyes wander over his face, take in the stubble on his jaw and the unruly hair nearly brushing his shoulders. She'd always known, logically, that Reid was physically attractive, but she'd never let herself dwell on it. Letting yourself daydream about screwing co-workers, Rossi had once informed her, was the first step down a path that led directly to HR. And while the man didn't seem to let that knowledge guide his own decision making, Emily knew that it was true. Now though, sitting in Reid's apartment with the very-bad-no-good idea taking root, she felt heat pooling in her belly and decided that HR could go to hell.

"Let me help... with the pain. I can help." She rested her hand on his stomach. His t-shirt was thin and she felt the muscles his quiver. This was new territory for them.

"Emily..." His voice was cautious, but he didn't shrink away from her touch. She shifted her hand slightly lower, letting it rest just inches above his waistband.

"Tell me to stop and we can pretend this never happened."

She watched him weigh the options in his mind and analyze the ways this definitely-not-a-good-idea might play out. She saw him realize that the risks probably outweighed the rewards. But for once logic -didn't win and Emily found herself face-to-face not with the BAU's resident genius, but with a man whose needs matched her own.

"I need to know that this won't change anything between us," he said determinedly, even as his pupils dilated and his breath hitched.

"We're friends first, no matter what. If this complicates anything, then we stop," Emily agreed.

That must have been enough because he slid one hand behind her head, tangled long fingers into her hair, and captured her lips with his own.

Their first time was careful and gentle and sometimes awkward, but somehow still better than it had any right to be.

There was a point when Emily venture naked down the hall and into Reid's bedroom to retrieve a condom from the bedside table. She left him groaning in frustration, shirtless and with an erection straining against his sweatpants, on the couch because, as she quipped, it was easier than hauling his gimp ass to the bedroom. It was fine, he called after her huskily, because he was more than happy to watch her walk away.

Reid, despite his condition, was an engaged partner. Though his mobility was limited and they both took care not to jostle his injured knee, he took great care to please the woman on top of him. By the time they needed the condom, she was ridiculously wet and thoroughly convinced that this was the best idea she'd ever had.

\-----

Later, when they were spent, Emily laid alongside him on the couch, head resting on his shoulder.

"You know, this place is a death trap for someone on crutches. You probably need someone to stop by once in a while to make sure you haven't broken a hip."

"Someone like a nurse?"

"Someone like a friend."

"I think that's probably a good idea."

\-----

"It wasn't hard to hide at first, especially since he wasn't cleared to travel with the team," Emily explained. "But that was a tough year and we eventually started... relying on each other... more than we should have."

As Emily pulled on her jacket, Morgan dropped a few dollars on the table for the waitress , and they headed back up the street.

"I noticed that you two had gotten closer, but I never put two and two together," Morgan admitted as they walked. "It must have been hard to walk away from that."

"It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, but Doyle was watching me, watching the entire team. I told myself that it was worth it if it meant keeping him, keeping all of you, safe from my mistakes."

"Let me talk to him, Emily. I can't fix this, but I know a thing or two about forgiving you. Maybe I can get him to listen."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I obviously do not own Criminal Minds or any of these characters; I'm just taking them out for a spin.

On their walk back to the BAU from lunch, Emily considered, but ultimately declined Morgan's offer to speak with Reid on her behalf. She missed him terribly, his friendship and his clever mouth; there was no getting around that. If their personal differences weren't negatively impacting their work or the team, however, she was just going to have to live with it until he eventually caved. Because if she could just be patient, he would eventually give in and allow her to make it all up to him. She hoped.

Weeks passed in an blur of cases, flights, and paperwork. When they did manage a full weekend without a call in, Emily had a long overdue brunch with girlfriends and even met her mother for dinner. Brunch was relaxing and dinner was bearable, yet she had to suppress the urge to constantly check her phone for a missed call, a text, anything from Reid.

The whole "giving him space" thing wasn't working out the way she'd hoped. She didn't know exactly what she'd been expecting, but continued silence wasn't it. By then, she'd have welcomed anything - an angry letter, a late night booty call, literally anything to indicate that she crossed his mind at all. Alone in her bed at night, her stupid imagination would run wild and she would wonder whether he was alone or whether he'd found some other woman to warm his bed.

For a guy who rarely dated and spent so much time with his nose buried in books, Emily had been surprised to learn that Reid had little trouble attracting bedmates. He didn't advertised it, but one night after a late night movie and a one too many glasses of wine, she'd asked him if he was a virgin. He'd raised his eyebrows, but hadn't taken offense.

"Sex is a biological imperative and I'm an post-pubescent male. It's something I enjoy and indulge in regularly."

At the time she'd smiled at the Reid-ness of his statement and slugged him in the bicep. "Dr. Ladykiller!"

Now the memory kept her awake at night.

\-----

It had been six weeks since Emily had shown up on Reid's doorstep and their personal relationship remained unchanged.

The team had been called to investigate a string of child abductions in North Dakota. The bodies of two little boys had been discovered, each within two days of their kidnapping, and a third child was missing. Emily and Reid went directly from the airport to the morgue and it was he who recognized the pattern.

"Switch welts on the legs, empty stomach, hypothermia, and a prayer card left with each body," he said softly, glancing up to make meaningful eye contact with Emily. She immediately understood what he was getting at.

"All parenting techniques endorsed in To Train Up a Child," she stated, voice unwavering even as her stomach twisted into a tight knot.

He nodded.

"Our unsub may have recently lost a child of the same age. Garcia needs to dig into fundamentalist families who recently had a young son die unexpectedly or get removed from the home by Social Services."

He was already pulling out his phone, eying her warily from across the table. Emily didn't meet his gaze, and turned her attention to the mortician who'd been patiently hovering in the corner.

Once Reid shared their theory with Garcia, the case progressed rapidly. The community was small and a tight knit group of strict fundamentalist families was quickly identified. They all adhered to the parenting advice laid out in To Train Up a Child, though only one couple had recently lost custody of their only son. Jacob Rodgers was safely in foster care and six-year-old Ben Jacobs was recovered alive, albeit bruised and suffering from minor hypothermia, from the Rodgers' detached garage.

Emily knew that she should have been relieved that they'd managed to save the little boy, but all she could focus on was the fact that each of the other six families would continue to get away with torturing their children in the name of religion. Social Services had spent years monitoring the well being of all seventeen affected children, but Emily knew in her gut that if they hadn't been able to prove abuse yet, there was almost no chance they'd be able to do it in the future. It made her sick.

\-----

"Can I ask you a favor?"

The team wasn't flying out until the next morning, so Reid and Morgan were sitting side by side at the hotel bar after dinner.

"Sure, kid. What's up?"

Morgan glanced over and watched Reid swirl the scotch in his glass. He took a swig of his beer as he waited for the younger man to continue.

A long moment passed and Reid didn't take his eyes off of the spiraling amber liquid in front of him.

"Will you check in on Emily tonight? Make sure she's okay?"

Morgan furrowed his brow, waited. Reid glanced up at him guiltily, glanced back down to his glass. Emily had joined the team for dinner and hadn't behaved unusually, but Reid wasn't fooled.

"She...struggles...whenever an unsub is religiously motivated," he added. "Ever since the exorcism. Especially when there are children involved."

"I'm not saying no, Pretty Boy, but are you sure it shouldn't be you knocking on that door?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Because you two were sleeping together?"

Reid glanced over at Morgan, eyes resigned.

"She told you." It was a statement.

"Yeah," Morgan admitted, taking a pull of his beer. "You in love with her?"

Reid raised an eyebrow and measured his words.

"I loved her, still love her, but not in the way that you mean," he said slowly. "We were always friends first, the sex was a bonus."

A pause.

"I messed up though."

Morgan waited. Reid finished his drink and signaled to the bartender for another.

"We were in Miami, I was three days into a migraine that I was trying to hide. We'd agreed from the start, no sex on the job, but the case was so steeped in religion, in ritual, she knocked. She was drunk, told me she needed me, told me she loved me. I didn't handle it well, didn't know what to say, was worried that someone would find out. She left upset. And then Doyle happened and she tried to take everything on herself. I'd hurt her, lost her trust, so she didn't ask for help and then she died."

"Reid, you can't blame-"

"I spent months believing that she died because of me, because I pushed her away. I spent months struggling with...cravings...because I wanted to stop feeling. Months where JJ's couch was the only thing standing between me and a needle. And then to find out it was all a lie? I'm pissed, Morgan, still so goddamn angry that I don't know what to do with myself. She showed up a few weeks ago, tried to justify her decision, said she'd do it all again if it meant keeping me safe. She'd lie again. In a second. And I don't know how to deal with that, so I've been keeping my distance."

Morgan didn't know what to say and in the silence Reid threw back his new drink.

Finally, Morgan clapped Reid on the back.

"Next round's on me."


	6. Chapter 6

The knock on Emily's hotel room door was soft, but it had never taken much to wake her, even less since Doyle. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table; the red numbers glowed 1:17 AM. She didn't turn on the lights or look through the peephole, but instead slipped over to the window, gun in hand, and peaked around the blackout curtain.

When she recognized the lanky form leaning rather haphazardly against the railing across from her door, she immediately set down the Glock, unlatched the chain, and swung the door open. Hearing the sound of the chain being undone, Reid had straightened, taken a step forward, and immediately opted to lean heavily on the doorframe.

"Emily," Reid greeted her with a slight hiccup. Emily blinked as her eye adjusted to the light from the hallway. She could smell the booze on him, but that didn't stop her ears from perking up at the sound of him using her first name. 

"Spencer," she answered, stepping back into the room. "Do you want to come in?"

"Yes, please, " he answered, a wide grin briefly flitting across his face as he stepped across the threshold. Emily shut the door behind him and flipped on the desk lamp.

"Emily, Emily, Emily," Reid repeated, flopping down into the rolling desk chair. Despite the alcohol and the low light, she still found him stupidly attractive.

"Spencer, Spencer, Spencer," she mimicked gently, settling across from him onto the bench at the foot of the rumpled king sized bed. "What are you doing here? It's pretty late."

"You probably want to know what I'm doing here so late," he began, as if he hadn't heard her. Emily nodded, suppressing an eye roll, and encouraging him to continue. Their friendship hadn't yet regained enough footing for eye rolls.

"Well, here it is," he announced, the words rolling off his tongue more slowly and disorganized than usual, but un-slurred. "I have been drinking - obviously - and I realized that while I am still angry about the "everyone lying to me about being you being dead" thing - and please don't think I'm ready to be past that - I led myself down that path by making you feel like you were alone when you weren't."

"Reid..." Emily cut in, mind racing back through the events that lead up to her confrontation with Doyle, trying to figure out how he could possibly come to the conclusion that any of it as his fault.

"Nope, nope, please don't interrupt me. I have something to say and it's important and I need to finish saying it," he waved his hands in front of him, apologetic even though there was no need.

Emily pressed her lips together and nodded, encouraging him to go on. People had been interrupting Reid his entire life; she was glad to see him stand up for himself, even if it was drunk in her hotel room past one in the morning.

"You came to me - not long before you went after Doyle - looking for a friend. That's not what you said you were looking for, but that's what you needed, but I was too distracted and too dense to see that you needed something more than you were asking for."

Silence fell as Reid paused and looked around the room. Emily had a million protestations flying through her mind, but held her tongue.

"It was actually a lot like this," he said, gesturing to the space around them. "Except it was my hotel room and it was two thirty eight am and we were in Miami."

"I didn't understand what you needed from me, Emily," his voice dropped to a whisper. "And I was distracted and confused and so I pushed you away. You told me you loved me and I pushed you away and then you went after Doyle alone."

Emily stared down at the floor, tracing the swirling pattern of the carpeting with her eyes and picking at her already ragged fingernails. Her cheeks burned and she wasn't nothing more than to stop him, but she still held her tongue. She could let him finish; she owed him that.

"I loved you, too - I still love you - but I wasn't in love with you, but maybe I could be one day, but when we started... you know... we agreed that love love was against the rules and so it wasn't even an option and so I didn't let myself. You understand that level of compartmentalization. I know you do."

He paused again and she glanced up. His brow was furrowed in concentration. She waited.

"That's all, I think."

He shifted his weight forward and made to stand up, but she stopped him.

"Spencer, I was so incredibly out of line when I came to you that night. I had zero right to say or do what I did and your response was appropriate and in no way affected my decision to go after Doyle alone. I've done a lot of stupid things in my life, but very few that I regret more than the way I treated you in Miami. I am so, so sorry."

*****

"Come on, Reid. We're the ones who made the stupid rules. We're allowed to break them," Emily whined, pressing her body against his, running her hand down his stomach. Spencer could smell the scotch on her breath. His back was against the hotel room wall and Hotch, of all people, was on the other side of that wall.

"Emily, you're drunk," he protested, wincing and catching her hand as she slid her palm over him through the front of his thin pajama pants. His head was throbbing, it had been for days despite his steady regiment of Tylenol. Despite the migraine, he felt his pants tighten as his body responded to her.

Emily rocked forward onto her tiptoes and pressed a line of sloppy kisses down his neck and along his collarbone. He closed his eyes, sucked in a breath, but then gently pushed her back.

"Who cares if I'm drunk? I can feel that you don't mind," she whispered, leaning into him again, grinding her hips against him, her breath hot against his ear. "Are you worried about someone hearing? I can be quiet. Let me prove it to you."

Spencer groaned at the friction, but pushed her back gently, but firmly. 

"Spencer, please, why are you doing this? I need you right now. I love you." Her voice was sharp, desperate, too loud.

His eyes flew open, but he slammed them shut again as a fresh wave of pain shot through his head.

" I can't handle this right now, Em. Please understand."

He felt her stiffen and step back, brushing his hands off her shoulders and leaving him pressed back against the wall with his eyes clamped shut and an erection tenting his pants.

"You know what - fuck you, fine," she hissed over her shoulder as she stalked unsteadily to the door. "You're right, I shouldn't have come. We're done here."

*****

"I was so ashamed of the way I acted that night that didn't know how to begin apologizing and so instead of owning up to my mistake like an adult, I began avoiding you. I told myself that it was for the best because Doyle was watching the team and the further you were from me, the safer you'd be. I knew that there was a chance I wouldn't make it out alive, but told myself that it was okay as long as the people I loved were safe."

Emily looked up from the carpet and met Reid's big hazel eyes. His gaze was clouded by alcohol, but gentler than she'd seen in a long time.

"You intended to be altruistic, but it was a selfish decision. I'm an adult, we're all adults. Regardless of anything else, we should have been given a choice."

"Yes."

They sat across from each other in companionable silence for several minutes, both feeling lighter than they had in months.

"I should go," Reid said quietly after a while. It was past two in the morning.

"You can stay here," Emily said, reaching out to touch his knee. "Let me grab you a couple Advil and some water."

She stood, walked into the bathroom, and fished the bottle of Advil out of her bag. She felt his eyes on her back as she walked away, saw his eyes on her as she returned. 

"Just to sleep, Reid," she said gently. "Instead of wandering drunk around the hotel at two thirty in the morning trying to find your room."

He nodded slowly, took the small pills from her and obediently swallowed them along with the full glass of water. She refilled the water as he pulled off his shoes and he let her guide him, fully clothed, into bed. They were both asleep in within minutes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this story, Emily turns down the job offer from Interpol.

Reid’s drunken visit to Emily’s hotel room and their subsequent sleepover didn’t erase the hurt between them, but it was the turning point that Emily had been so desperately waiting for.

***

She woke up at the first buzz of her alarm the next morning to the familiar weight of his lanky arm slung across her waist. For someone who spent so much of his life avoiding touch, Reid had always been a surprisingly snuggly bedmate. Reaching over to turn off the alarm, Emily heard his low groan behind her; his voice, always husky first thing in the morning, was raspy and hungover.

“Emily?”

She rolled over to face him, watched him take in the situation, note that they were both fully clothed, replay the night before in his mind. His hazel eyes were bloodshot, the dark circles even more defined than usual, and his longish hair had tipped past stylishly mussed into hobo.

“Morning, handsome,” she quipped, grasping for normalcy.

He pulled back, propping himself up on one elbow and squeezing his eyes shut against what Emily assumed was a pounding headache.

“Need a couple more Advil?”

He ran long fingers through his hair and then collapsed face down into the pillow without answering. Unsure of where they stood, Emily resisted the urge to run her hand down his back, and instead rolled out of bed to retrieve the pills.

When she sat back on the edge of the bed a minute later with two Advil and a glass of water, he gingerly rolled over, sat up, and obediently swallowed the pills she handed him.

“Thanks,” he rasped, avoiding her eyes. “And I’m sorry about last night. Thanks for not kicking me out.”

“No thanks necessary, Spence. I’m glad you came to find me.”

He glanced up then, exhausted hazel meeting slightly less tired chocolate. She waited.

“I want to move past this.”

She nodded, and held his gaze.

“I’m still angry. And scared,” he said. “But I miss you too much to keep pushing you away.”

Not trusting herself to speak, Emily nodded. Reid looked relieved, hungover, but relieved. A minute passed in silence, broken only by the crinkle of sheets when he finally leaned forward and pulled her into a hug.

***

Relationships take work, but as the weeks past in a flurry of cases and a handful of weekends at home, Emily and Spencer put in the effort to repair their friendship. Sometimes it was easy and sometimes they stumbled, but over time it got easier. Weekday lunches turned into weekend brunches, which eventually turned into movie nights. He never asked for his key back and she never offered to return it.

***  
8 months later

“Emily Prentiss, do you really think that I don’t see what’s going on here?” Morgan smirked, leaning across the booth to clink his beer bottle against her’s.

The team was out for drinks on a Friday night, celebrating a full week without travel. The bar was crowded, but not so loud that you had to shout to make yourself heard, which suited Emily much better than Morgan’s original suggestion that they all go out clubbing.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” she answered, straight faced, taking a sip and scanning the room. Hotch and Rossi were taking on JJ and Reid in a round of darts (JJ appeared to be carrying the team) and Garcia was god knows where, probably securing a round of overly complex shots.

“Oh yeah, sure you don’t,” Morgan snorted and took a long pull of his beer, the corners of his mouth turned up. “Well let me just say that I’m happy you two are… enjoying each other’s company again. It’s about damn time.”

“For the record, I still don’t know what you’re talking about, Morgan,” Emily said, but then let her face relax into a grin. “But off the record, he was worth the wait.”


End file.
